


For You Do My Curtains Part

by SteinShipping61



Category: Gravity Falls, Rick and Morty
Genre: Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Porn With Plot, Romance, Science Fiction, Science Fiction & Fantasy, stanchez
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-03
Updated: 2019-07-24
Packaged: 2020-06-03 11:06:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 11,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19462702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SteinShipping61/pseuds/SteinShipping61
Summary: A suicidal scientist headlining an underground concert runs into an experienced conman. Chaos ensues.A relationship formed from dirt ends up being the rollercoaster of musician and scientist Rick Sanchez, this small world bringing him back to the twin brother of his old college partner Ford. This brother is a lot more fun though, and travelling together gives him a new insight into love and life.





	1. Too Drive To Drunk

Stanley Pines had been running for far too long. He had been travelling state to state, getting chased out of everywhere he went with his tail between his legs, feeling sorry for himself yet not once learning his lesson. His retreat, his only solace was this little area, a map of about four streets, cornered off from polite society, where the condemned and the criminals went to conspire and hide, and where a wallet chain was a necessity. Stanley Pines was well-known, a brute and not one to be messed with, a young man in his prime with broad shoulders and a reputation for his lack of mercy. But he was sentimental, and this night, as he walked along the grimy street, the putrid scent of urine and melancholy, broken dreams and desperation wafting in his nostrils, he saw something he just had to interfere with. 

A skinny young man, his age or maybe a little younger, was hunched against a wall, his knees to his chest and his arms covering his face, shuddering like a junkie. He was surrounded by men, strong men, who kicked at him, grabbed his longish voluminous hair and making him hiss, spit and writhe in vain. The weak man - or boy, Stanley really couldn't tell - wasn't really making much noise; wasn't crying out for help. But he was bloody, the liquid glistening under florescent street lamps, falling form the man's mouth and dribbling onto his shirt. The man had bruises too, old ones and new ones, varying considerably, like being beaten up was a common enough occurrence for him. Stanley ran over, stopping about six feet from the scene. 

"Hey assholes!" the men turned to look at him, stances dropping and eyes widening slightly as they saw the legend that was Stanley Pines. Not showing much weakness, but yielding to him anyway, the guys backed off, spitting on the skinny guy on the ground before walking, rather quickly, away. Once they were gone, Stanley sat down beside the spindly guy on the pavement, seeing that the extent of his injuries definitely included broken ribs, a fucked jaw, broken fingers, a bloody nose (broken a few years ago by the looks of it) and his eye socket had been apparently punched in. Stanley hissed. 

"Geez stranger, what did you do to piss them off," he asked, but not really as a question. He stood, extending a hand out to help the other guy stand. "Come on man, let me help you up," 

The guy scornfully looked at Stanley's hand, then up at the man himself, eyes laced with venom and vitriol yet a lingering curiosity present that Stanley had only seen in his brother. Without warning, he spat blood into Stanley's hand. Stanley yelped, snorting in disgust and jumping back. "Ew!" he exclaimed, wiping it on a drainage pipe which just made his hand dirtier. "What the fuck is wrong with you?!" he asked, waving his hands in incessant rage. 

By now the guy was standing up, staggering a little and leaning on the wall for support. From the waistband of his trousers he pulled a hip flask (which greatly amused Stanley, it made him look like an old man!) and took a long swig of something seemingly very strong. He then stared at Stanley, trying to keep the drink inside his rotting body and not embarrass himself by spewing it up. "I didn't ask f-for your help ja-UUUURRRRPPPP-ckass!" the guy snarled, turning to leave. "That was none-none-none of your goddamn b-business," 

"Well excuse me for saving your damn worthless life!" Stanley snarled back, wishing he had just left the guy to die but knowing he would save him again in a heartbeat. 

"Yo-You are excused," the guy nodded, walking away and muttering something to himself in Spanish, the contents of the hip flask having apparently improved his short-term balance. Stanley huffed and talked away, deciding that since he had no more business there is was time to go back to his car. 

The StanMobile, his baby, and old clunker of a car, red with the bonnet smashed up, the metal crinkled after he had crashed into a lamppost. The car sat snugly in a small alleyway, away from the prying eye of petty thieves and drunken vandals. Everybody knew it was Stanley's car, and everybody knew not to touch it. Except, it seemed, one person, who had placed a flyer under the windshield wiper, and had it not been flapping in the breeze Stanley wouldn't have noticed it there for a while. He clutched it, ready to throw it away until he eyed the contents, his disinterest becoming captivation. The flyer was for a band, namingly something called 'Flesh Curtains'. The lettering was blue and yellow, jagged like bolts of lightning shooting neon beams down from space. There was also some weird green swirling thing, which Stanley assumed was their logo. He checked the information, found that they played punk, rock and grunge and that they were playing at a little club not to far away with free entry. Deciding that it was too early to sleep in his car just yet, and that Stanley really couldn't pass up anything free, he headed off. 

The club was underground in every sense of the word; grime dripped from spray-painted walls, the light only coming up from the small doorway above, which headed down into the main room. A stage built with rotten driftwood stood at the far wall, the same logo hand-painted hung from a shredded dark-blue bedsheet that was pinned to the ceiling. For a seemingly obsolete band there was a huge crowd, not all of them human. This didn't bother Stanley; he was accustomed to the occult and the existence of things the rest of humanity could never be aware of. He stood at the front, easily pushing his way forward and into the centre. There was an annoyed grumbling droning through the crowd, in many languages but with a clear collective complaint; the band was late. Stanley knew they were late, so far by at least half an hour. So the crowd was getting riled up. If there was going to be a brawl or a riot Stanley would get the hell out of there as fast as possible. He wasn't one for mindless violence. Violence always had to have a reason in his book. 

But eventually the lightly dimmed, illuminating the desolate stage in harsh hues of acidic greens and yellows and the occasional dark blue strip. It was almost sad how the lights kept going even though there was nobody onstage yet, like how a loyal dog would wait by his owner's grave. Stanley eventually looked up to notice the band members, and almost fainted when he saw who the lead singer was, and what state he was expected to perform in. It was unmistakeably the guy from earlier, the skinny one. He looked even taller now that he wasn't staggering, his hair rather than flat across his head was gelled upwards into large spikes which hung over his ears at the sides and down his back at the back, crazed like a madman. He looked even better this way. But the rest of him was rather...banged up. There were flimsy bandages loosely hanging from his wounds, the bruises still swollen. Still, he moved gracefully onstage, clutching a guitar and attaching a mic to a mic stand. 

"I-Is this fuckin thing on?" he stuttered into the mic, and it clearly was. The lead singer was also clearly drunk, swaying and trying to keep upright. He gripped the mic pole for support, and Stanley expected this band to be really shit. The sight of the other members did nothing to sate this dread; a tall half-human-half-bird as the bass player, stoic and strong, with a neutral expression that was nowhere near befitting of a punk band member. The other band member was apparently a cat, a personified one who talked in a high pitched voice to the lead singer, their conversation barely audible in the mic as they set up. He had tufts of fur missing, rotting fangs and bug-eyes that freaked Stanley out; and not much could freak him out. The fact that they were both aliens, at least the bird man was, didn't freak Stable out on the slightest. One learns, when their brother is Stanford Pines, that what you see is not always what you get. So he waited patiently for the music to start. 

And start it did. The sound was melancholic and slow with the same kind of electric energy one would find in a twenties jazz concert. It was punk with rhythm, the musical anomaly that sounded like a mixture of The Ramones, The Beatles and 50 Cent. Stanley was immersed in the music, the sound if the lead singer's voice, the guy who had seemed like a worthless cretin earlier, to brash and unforgiving, now sang with such a heavenly melody, on-key and in tune to the music, making everyone in the rom freeze for a second as the chords were struck before erupting, gradually into a crescendo of moshing, screaming, singing along and dancing erratically. Stanley was part of this crowd, just another guy rocking out. But apparently not, for the lead singer looked directly at him, that guy he had saved, and clearly remembered him. Their eyes locked., the mutual contempt yet bewilderment and respect passing between the two like sound waves, binding them in a more intimate way that sex ever could, even if only for a few seconds. And in those few seconds, Stanley realised something. 

And Stanley thought, as the lead singer would say, 'It's love at first fuckin' sight, man,'

The concert didn't actually last that long, a few longish songs and a ballad, some guitar solos and that was it done. Still, the crowd seemed satisfied. The lead singer, who Stanley had heard the crowd and bandmates refer to as 'Rick' had been sneaking drinks in the entire set, turning around and pausing his solo just to swig from his hip flask. Stanley found alcoholism abhorrent - his father used to drink - and he began to hate the guy even more. But at the same time, he couldn't deny the jump in his heart, the flutter of the beat as his chest panged with a yearning, a mourning and a painful hatred all at the same time. So in order to sate this feeling, just to have some peace of mind, Stanley followed the band off-set, back around to their car. He felt slightly stalker-ish, but his intentions weren't malicious, and that was good enough for him. 

There wasn't a tour bus or anything, but there was a...car...a weird car with a dome for a windshield and a...bin...for a propeller. It was saucer-shaped with bright blinking lights down the sides. Rick, the lead singer was wearing a faded 'Backupsmore' hoodie. Stanley remembered Backupsmore all too well. As the two bandmates left, the bird carrying the cat in his wings like a child in a harness, Rick leaned against the car, half-in-half-out, bottles falling out the door as it opened, some smashing against the ground and some rolling away. Rick watched them impassively. He took another drink just as Stanley swiped the flask from his hand, throwing it angrily into the car. "You're not fucking driving that thing," Stanley snarled. "What's your BAL huh? Like one hundred milligrams per milligram!" 

"There were so-so many UUUUUURRRRRPPPP things wrong with that s-sentence," Rick laughed, doubling over and hacking, spitting out bile as he did so. "Look buddy, I'm having a-a bad night okay. Scram dick-face!" 

Up close Rick was even more attractive, husky eyes, sharp features like a buzzard pecking at something way beyond death. His frame was thin but defined somehow, his smile - more of a smirk actually - creeping upwards. 

"You're not driving. You're too drunk," Stanley crossed his arms over his chest, both men knowing he could break Rick in two. "I know a motel down the street. Their locks don't work too well and the staff don't give a shit if you sneak in for the night," 

"Like I said," Rick coughed. "None of your business what I do with my life. Who are you anyway?!" It seemed to have dawned on Rick that Stanley didn't actually introduce himself. 

"Stanley Pines," Stanley introduced, feeling a freeing sensation as he have out his real name, something he didn't do often and savoured as a rare delicacy when he could. 

"Rick Sanchez muthafucka," Rick held out a pondersome hand for Stanley to shake, falling forward a little before steadying himself. 

"Let's go," Stanley ushered. "Where are your keys?" 

"Keys?" Rick seemed perplexed. 

"Don't wanna leave a car this...unique...unlocked in his neighbourhood," Stanley warned. If he had seen it he would definitely have stolen it.

Rick just gave him a knowing smile, standing up and out of the car. He snapped his fingers in mid air. "Fuckin' ship lock your damn door girl you should know this shit," he banged on the window a few times. 

To Stanley's surprise and shock, the orange light whirred on the sides, a strong female voice saying 'Fucking ship fucking locking stupid sack of crap. That's you. That's how you sound. Ha ha ha,' 

"Damn bitch," Rick muttered, for even he had too much pride to get into a screaming match with his car. As he and Stanley began walking away, Stanley looked back at the car. "What?" Rick asked in agitation.

"Where did you get that spaceship?!" Stanley asked, impressed. The amount of money he could sell that thing for! 

"Built it," Rick answered casually. 

"Built it?" 

"Yes," Rick shrugged. "What? Never seen an intelligent punk before?!" 

Stanley hadn't, and he got the feeling that he was only just scratching the surface of who Rick really was. 

"W-Wait!" Rick exclaimed, jogging back to the car in a drunken zig-zag pattern. "Gotta get my-UUUURRRRPPPP- bag!" 

The motel was as expected; cigarette burned sheets and brown mould on the bathroom sink. There was no fridge, no hairdryer, no real luxuries. Oh well, what had Stanley expected in that crappy neighbourhood? More than this, foolishly. He flopped onto one of the single beds, Rick falling onto the opposite one. He dumped his bag at the side and rested his head on the pillow. Stanley narrowed his eyes. "Rick?" he asked. No response. He got very concerned, creeping over very close to Rick, trying to hear a breath, see a rise or fall in his chest, something to show he hadn't just died. "Rick?" he called again, softly this time. But after another couple of seconds of eerie quiet Rick suddenly jolted, a snort and then a loud snore emitted from Rick, and his chest rose high and fast. Stanley grunted, clutching his own heart in surprise and relief. "Jesus Rick, you're gonna give me a heart attack," Stanley eyed Rick's bag, a brown satchel one slung over their shoulder. Couldn't do any harm to go snooping could it? Worst case scenario he found a switchblade and a bottle of whiskey. Actually, that was kind of a given considering who Rick was. 

As promised, there was a litre bottle of Jack Daniels and a switchblade tucked into the pocket. But there was way more stuff in here, cool stuff. Microchips and laptops (Password protected of course, and after Stanley tried 'Fuck' he was out of options). There were computer parts and circuit boards and reaction timers. Beakers and viles of little chemicals labelled things Stanley couldn't bear to understand., There was a poster of the human body rolled up in there, all the parts annotated with notes in what looked like Ricks handwriting. There was some boring stuff; clothes, books, the usual. But right at the bottom, in a dark wooden frame with smashed glass, was a certificate. Stanley examined the certificate, trying to read the writing. It was a signature. Looking down, he saw 'Rick Sanchez, PhD in Advanced Spatial Analysis, Advanced Physics and Anatomy. Masters in Chemistry. Backupsmore University'. Beside that was a blurry picture of Rick who looked about fourteen (his date of birth revealed that he was actually thirteen. He started university so young) with his hair cut very short and a wide smile. "Woah, this guy's a scientist," Rick was nothing like Ford, of course, but he seemed as smart as him if not smarter. Stanley growled to himself and shook his head, not wanting to think about his brother. 

"I don't look like a scientist do I? Hehe," came Rick's sultry, scratchy voice from the bed. Stanley looked up and froze, seeing Rick with his brown hair messed against his head, watching Stanley with half-lidded eyes. Stanley stood up, clutching the certificate to his chest. "Look man didn't mean to I-" 

"Relax man," Rick chuckled to himself, pulling a packet of smokes from his pocket and lighting one, offering one to Stanley who declined (he only smoked cigars) and letting the smoke fill the room. "I wouldn't have left it there if I didn't expect you to eavesdrop,"  
"So you really are a scientist?" 

"Oh y-yea man, I am," Rick nodded. He smirked. "I can do shit with your body that'll make you orgasm for five minutes and paralyse you for the rest of your sweet life," 

"Yea no dude," Stanley declined. 

"Wait!" Rick frowned, holding a hand up. "What's your -UUUURRRRPPPP- name a-again? I didn't catch it," 

"I already told you. It's Stanley Pines," Stanley grumbled. 

"Ugh," Rick snorted and disgust. "I thought I recognised you. You're the twin of that- of that fuckin' nerd," he spay out the last word. "With the six fingers. Stanford, ugh what a douche. I know where you get your sense of mis-misguided chivalry from that's all I can say. Fuck calling you that boring-ass name man. You're Lee from now on," 

Stanley blinked, placing the certificate back in the bag. "Lee?" 

"Yea," Rick nodded. "You need your own identity man, not just latching onto your stupid brother. Stanley is too similar to his name, so Lee is more...you know...you," 

It was clear that this guy was incredibly insightful. But still, Stanley wasn't about to forgive him for being such an irresponsible dick earlier. "You're new to the whole 'alternative lifestyle' thing aren't you?" 

"Could say that," Rick smirked, taking another drag of his cigarette. Even the cigarette, when placed in the mouth of someone like him, seemed intelligent, seemed deep and trustworthy and aware of things that Stanley could never dream to be aware of. Stanley watched the older - or younger - man chuckle onto himself, a low sounds that had a little wheeze at the end as the tar and toxins dissolved Rick's capillaries and made the mucus form in his throat. Rick didn't seem to care that he was killing himself, or maybe the thought of dying pleased him. 

"Who are you Rick Sanchez?" Stanley asked with weariness in his voice. Rick only smiled and took another drag.


	2. Discussion of Ford

Stan and Rick had planned to part ways until Rick spotted what kind of a state Stan's car was in. The bonnet crushed, the entire hood almost ripped off, the engine smoking and almost totally shot, antifreeze spilling out the sides and dripping onto the rad underneath. An oil leak. So many problems wrong with that hunk of crap. "Geez Lee," Rick complained. "What the - What the hell'd you do to that thing?" Rick coughed as he opened the bonnet and black smoke puffed out. 

"Hey," Stanley pouted, pointing an accusatory finger at Rick. "You cant talk about my baby like that!" he fondled the door handle of the car. "The Stanmobile's as pretty as they get. May not look like much but she gets me from A to....well, A on good days," 

"Uh huh," Rick agreed, unimpressed. "And why haven't you got it fi-UUUURRRRPPPP -xed?"

Stanley snorted. "Pffft, are you kiddin'? I'm not wasting money on a mechanic Rick, do you know how much those repairs cost?!" 

Rick raised an eyebrow, watching Stanley curiously. "You're a real tightwad aint ya?" 

"What gave it away?" Stanley asked, grinning a little, his eyes sparkling with something neither man could place, some binding force that made Stanley and Rick drawn to each other on a level deeper than either could understand, and there wasn't much that Rick couldn't understand. He couldn't even understand the chemical process behind it, that was how complicated this feeling was. He knew that love was dopamine and happiness was endorphins, but this feeling seemed to transcend way beyond both of those things. Although neither man would admit it out loud. 

"Look," Rick relented, mainly just because he hated leaving a job unfinished, even one he hadn't actually started. "I can fix your car for free,"   
"Really?!" Stanley asked. Rick swore that he saw the older man's eyes become dollar signs. 

"Yeah," Rick shrugged, trying to act casual. "Whatever. You're fucking helping though," 

A few hours later Rick was underneath the car, tinkering with the exhaust or something Staley didn't know about. As far as he was concerned there was nothing wrong with the inner workings of the car, but Rick seemed to think otherwise and he was inclined to believe the scientist. Stanley walked over with a cold beer in his hand, giving it to Rick as he slid out from underneath. Rick was only wearing a white tank top with oil stains dotted around it, and Stanley found himself staring at the arms with lithe muscles. He tried to fight the blush creeping up his cheeks by scowling. "Here," Stanley offered the beer to Rick who took it with a sour look. 

"Beer? Really?" Rick scoffed, popping the top of the bottle and pouring something from his whiskey flask into it, mixing the light coloured beer with the darker liquid. Stanley watched as Rick downed it without any hindrance. "Now th-that's what a drink tastes like Lee," 

Stanley couldn't help but blush at the nickname. He hoped Rick didn't notice. Rick stood up, wiping some excess oil off his hands with a dirty rag and some whiskey off his chin with his sleeve. "It's going to be a hot one tonight," Rick mused. Stanley nodded. 

"Yeah," 

As dusk became darkness and the stars twinkled overhead, Rick and Stan lay side-by-side on the hood of the car, their legs dangling off the front. They watched the clouds pass across the moon, thin and wispy. Other than that the night was clear. Rick, as always, was incredibly drunk. Bottles lay around the floor on his side, a few on Stanley's side too. Rick had also snorted something pink from a little baggie, but that wasn't Stanley's scene so he didn't get involved. "Rick?" he asked after some time, his voice childlike and curious. "What was Ford like?" 

Rick sighed as if trying to find the best possible answer. He sat up, groaning as he rested his back against the busted windshield. Stanley stayed lying down; the thing might have been able to support Rick's weight but he was a different story. "Ford was a nerd," Rick began. When he caught the look in Stanley's eye he decided to elaborate. "He was so smart. Not as smart as me, but too good for Backupsmore," 

Stanley gulped, looking down guiltily; an action which didn't go unnoticed by Rick. "But he was pretentious. Too big for his breeches. He hated that I drank, that I smoked, that I was late to class and stuff. Yet I was still smarter than him," Rick scoffed. "He used to argue with me all the time, whenever we were paired up for an assignment or experiment. I even remember him saying that I reminded him of you," Rick smiled thoughtfully. Stanley didn't know what he had been expecting, but it certainly hadn't been that. He knew that Ford had been pissed at him for the incident at school but the fact that he was talking about him in university like that...it really made him think. He had screwed up everything for his brother, even if he didn't mean to. And now he was just getting his come-up-ins. Rick noticed the sudden heavy atmosphere.

"Look, I don't know what happened with you two, but your brother was a fuckin jerk," 

"You're right," Stanley got off the bonnet. "You don't know what happened Rick," he said, in a tone harsher than he intended to. He started walking away, even though it was his car. "Can I get the keys to your spaceship?" he asked, as if this was the most ordinary thing in the world. Rick shrugged, lobbing the keys over to Stanley who caught them expertly. He couldn't help but smile as he did so, walking away and leaving Rick to his thoughts. He knew he was supposed to be storming away in anger but damn was it hard to stay mad at Rick. 

Unfortunately, Rick had other plans. He and Ford had been working on a device before Ford had fucked off - to Oregon he assumed - that allowed someone to read the other's thoughts. It was simple enough, however Ford had taken the only prototype as well as the blueprints. Being just a little smarter than Ford, Rick quickly configured a concept that would work just as well if not better than that stupid little helmet. It was to do with conductors, the nerves which allowed electricity to pass through the brain. If Rick had the correct conductor, something metal, he could transfer those electrodes onto a computer screen, similar to the design Stephen Hawking used for his chair. But hopefully better. After configuring the device and inwardly apologising to Stanley in advance in case his head blew up, Rick went over to his spaceship to find Stanley passed out amongst empty beer cans. "And he has the auda-UUURRRRPPP- city to complain ab-about m-my drinking problem. Sheesh," Rick muttered to himself before throwing the helmet on Stanley and hooking it up to his junk laptop. 

A search bar appeared on the screen. "Right, what to search for..." Rick mused. He typed in 'Stanford Pines' but that came up with waaaaayyyyyy too many results. He scratched his chin for a while before trying. 'Stanford Pines betrayal'. Bingo. Three results, and Rick read them all. He was surprised to see the first one, the perpetual motion device Stanford built broke, just when Stanley was standing near it. 

Rick had to hand it to the guy, he certainly was dramatic. If he thought he had ruined his brother's life he was sorely mistaken. Rick had expected that Stanley felt guilty abut something but seriously, this was ridiculous. The machine had broken because Ford built it wrong, not because of anything Stanley did. But whatever. Rick thought that he might as well look at the next two results just to get some context. He was both amazed and enraged by what he saw. Ford, in his arrogance just walked out on his fucking brother without so much as a goodbye, all up and ready to go to some fancy college and crushing their dreams of becoming explorers. Rick snarled, hating Ford more and more. But the last one was what surprised him the most, although in hindsight he knew it shouldn't have. 

Ford had always claimed too be the more intelligent brother, even using Stanley's name as an insult against Rick. From what Rick could see, Ford was incredibly wrong. He wasn't nearly as imaginative as Stanley. Stanley had managed to fabricate his own twist on his memories. Even though Ford had gone to Backupsmore because his machine hadn't worked, Stanley seemed to have always believe that he was holding his brother back. Like everything was his fault; everything that went wrong in Ford's life. Rick had to hand it to Stanley; the guy had a talent for fucking things up, sure. But putting the weight of that burden on himself? No wonder the guy ended up living in his car on those streets. Rick shook his head in both admiration and disapproval, a wry grin creeping onto his face. He knew more than one way to make his Lee forget about Ford.


	3. Cigars

The days passed with Stanley and Rick never once leaving each other's side. Stanley had never stuck around anywhere this long before, and neither had Rick. They knew that neither one would get sick of the other. The crazed chaos they ensued would surely see to that. They lived on the road, in the now pimped-up Stanmobile Rick had turned into one of the fastest and most powerful cars in existence, driving with ease with a roaring engine. The two travelled from town to town and performed chemistry experiments in front of audiences for money, Stanley feeling utter humiliation in his role as 'the guy who hands the scientist his tools'. But then that was Rick's plan. Stanley himself wasn't making any progress in his sales businesses. He knew he wasn't an inventor, but he couldn't just stand idly by letting Rick do everything. He was raised to be a breadwinner. He was raised to seek adventure, and he just wasn't getting it in his current companionship with Rick. 

One night, in a dingy hotel room with flickering lights and brown tap water, Rick and Staley lay side by side on their double bed in a comfortable silence. Their hands were close to touching, each man feeling heat radiate off the other. Rick had noticed for a while some...tension...between them. And not the bad kind. Whenever he called Stanley his nickname the smaller man would blush and fidget, wrapping a strong arm shyly around his stomach. Whenever Rick was shirtless, letting his slim figure breath and his hair lie on his shoulders as it dried right after a shower, Stanley would flush bright red, refusing to look at him. Stanley was so deep in the closet Rick wasn't sure how to pull him out. And that was just the problem. 

Rick didn't want to ruin their friendship - companionship, whatever the hell it was - by making Stanley feel pressured or uncomfortable. Stanley was the masculine type, the violent type, and Rick couldn't be sure of his reaction. He had tried many times to mathematically determine what Stanley would say, but never could. The man was too passionate, to unpredictable. It was unbelievably sexy, but also could become unbelievably dangerous for the scientist. So Rick was going to test the shark-infested water not by doing a cannonball, but by dipping a single toe in. "Lee..." he groaned, turning over on the bed. "My back hurts..." 

"Uh..." Stanley shrugged in confusion. "Okay...?" 

"I don't have-have painkillers," rick lied; he always had painkillers. "Massage it for me?" 

Stanley scoffed in disbelief, fumbling over words as he reluctantly agreed and his fingers began to ghost over Rick's spine. Rick had learned that despite how macho he was, how confident he pretended to be, that Stanley was actually very shy. Incredibly reserved and more than a little awkward. He didn't like making a fool of himself, even in front of someone he trusted as much as Rick. His fingers softly caressed the bones around Rick's shoulders, and after a while even the scientist found himself melting into the warm touch, falling sleepily onto the pillow and forgetting himself. "You're fu-fucking good at that Lee...." 

"Hm," Stanley mumbled quietly as a thank you, which made Rick smirk. He noticed Stanley's lingering hand seemed even closer to his own now, and in a bold move Rick closed the gap. Slender fingers fell easily into larger ones., each hand the perfect fit to hold the other, like a wedding ring slipping onto a finger. Like they were meant to lie together like this, on a cigarette-stained bedsheets, fingers interlocked. "Rick..." 

"Yes Lee..." 

"I like this," he stuttered shyly. Their hands were holding each other more firmly now, Rick shifting even closer so that he was one move away from lying on top of Stanley. They lay there for hours, just staring at the ceiling, Rick's thumb caressing Stanley's palm, making it tickle in a nice, clam way. "Rick?" 

"Mhm?" 

"What does this mean?" 

"It means you're my lover now," the scientist decided with utmost conviction. Stanley's eyes welled with tears, until he quickly blinked them back. "Now go-go fetch me some whiskey hun," 

"I'm your lover not your damn maid," Stanley snared but got up anyway, getting a bottle of Jack for Rick and some beer for himself, climbing back into bed after popping the cap. "What does this mean for us..?" 

"Nothing," Rick answered. "We're still best friends Lee, we just get to do more butt-touching," Stanley laughed at that joke, a real genuine laugh. "You know, I've been saving something for a special occasion," Rick pulled a thin wooden box out from one f the many pockets in his lab coat, the wood polished and shiny, a little golden plaque on the edge, Rick's name engraved into it rather crudely. It opened with a clock to reveal two cigars sitting in clean straw, thick and fat wrapped in something that looked like banana leaf, varying shades of brown and green clear. Rick offered the box to Stanley which he held in clumsy hands, thick fingers picking up a cigar crudely and sticking it in his mouth. 

Rick treated his cigar with more respect, placing it between his index finger and thumb. Stanley briefly wondered if Rick was that graceful when it came to handling cocks, and he almost burst out in raucous laughter at his thought, at his own perversions. Rick sensed his partner's amusement and flashed him the finger, striking a match and lighting the cigar, coughing a little as he did s. He placed the tip onto Stanley's tip too, the cigars lighting each other in a spectacular burst of embers. It was like the ignition of an emotional spark, something both men had buried deep inside of them, the feeling more intense than love, a closeness closer than solid particles. They went back to lying down, their movements synchronised as the smoked, the room filling up with an exotic taste. Rick thought the cigar tasted like Stanley, Stanley thought the cigar tasted like Rick. That was until..."This isn't just tobacco, is it?" Stanley asked in mock annoyance, trying to keep a stern expression but a glint of amusement ever-present in his eyes. 

"Damn right it's not," Rick smirked, pulling Stanley down into an unexpected and passionate kiss.


	4. Set Your Emotions Free

The kiss was heated, lasting for minutes that became light-years before both men were forced to reluctantly come up for air. They chuckled for a second, unable to contain their giddy giggles like lovestruck teens. Spent from their laughter, their smiles softened and they looked into one another's eyes with such soft, tender gazes. "Wanna-Wanna do this Lee cause I don't th-think I can contain myself any longer," Rick admitted, his voice sultry and growling rather than its usual out-bursting soliloquy of explaining the relationship between protons and electrons. For the first time in a long time, Rick was feeling incredibly relaxed, his natural high enveloping him in its warm arms. Well...actually that was Stanley's warm arms but still. 

"Rick I've never...with a guy...ya'know," Stanley admitted anxiously, rubbing the back of his neck, his eyes darting around the room, looking everywhere except into the other's. 

"Hey, Lee, just do what feels good, kay," Rick suggested, and the older man nodded. Rick nodded back in affirmation and began to undress, exposing his pale, slender stomach and protruding vertebrae. Stanley, interested and intrigued by how such a torso would feel to the touch, ran his fingers along and up Rick's sides, tenderly brushing the soft flesh. "H-Hey that feels good.." Rick arched his back upwards like a cat, mewling at the touch. He wriggled down the bed, so his eyes were level with Stanley's naval, and he began to slowly unzip Stanley's pants. 

The sexual tension probably turned Stanley on more than the promise of sex itself. The slow, methodical way Rick folded his clothes back, pulling down his boxers just low enough so that his dick sprang free. Rick's eyes widened for a moment, and soft chuckle escaped his lips, making Stanley blush. "What?" Stanley asked, annoyed. 

"You s-sure you haven't done this bef-before Lee? Y-You'd be a natural with a cock that size," Rick chuckled, wrapping his mouth around Stanley's head and dragging his tongue up and along the underside, cat-licking it. He put pressure, wonderful pressure on all the right places. Stanley smirked. 

"Well I know you've done this before," he observed making Rick smirk, before any control of his motor functions was cut off as Rick swallowed with his dick in his mouth, tightening the deep chasm to afford Stanley the ultimate pleasure, the ultimate stimulation. Stanley groaned and involuntarily threaded his finger's through Rick's hair. At first the thrusts were short and slow until he deep-throated him. An explosion of marvellous sensations he'd never felt before. It made him moan so loud the heavens reverberated and he kept fucking Rick's throat until he bottomed out. 

Rick meanwhile reached down to remove his brown pants, the button popping off as he roughly and carelessly broke them apart, clacking on the floor and rolling under the bed somewhere. Reaching back, Rick prepared himself. He spun his fingers around inside his own asshole until he felt Stanley start to throb in his mouth, and he pulled away. By now he was stretched out enough, he could fit3 fingers in. 

Stanley's eyes went wide at the loss of contact. The discomfort from his edging made him groan. He glared down at Rick. "What the Hell?!" he demanded. 

"Lee, fu-fuck me," Rick rolled over onto his stomach, pulling his knees up to his chest. 

"Don't mind if I do," Stanley readily agreed, searching uncertainly around the room. "Uh - condom?" 

"Y-You clean m-m-man?" Rick asked, starting to jerk himself off to the mage of Stanley above him. 

"Yeah," Stanley snorted, offended. His eyes shifted to Rick. "You?"

"Duh, now f-fuck me already," Rick sounded like a desperate mewling cat. 

He positioned himself at Rick's entrance, their tongues beginning a fierce battle for dominance which Stanley won. Rick's eyes slowly drifted shut as the surrendered all of his control to the older man. Lee began to slide himself in, using Rick's spit as lubricant. The preparation gave him easy entry. Rick stretched around his cock. Stanley had fucked many women, but none of them gave him this pleasure. They didn't have this tightness and warmth. He had always been afraid of going too fast with them, afraid of hurting or breaking them, so sex was never the most enjoyable experience for him, where he could just let go of himself. But now he could do whatever he wanted. 

He gripped Rick's arms so hard he left bruises and started to thrust. Stanley fucked him so hard, slamming into him every time without a care in the world. The bed creaked as he pounded Rick with a building intensity. Speed and strength, he demonstrated both. 

Underneath him Rick smirked. This is all he wanted. He wanted Stanley to stop pretending, to stop being afraid. He wanted to release the demons inside the older man and now he was getting what he wanted. What had once been anger compacted into an iron cage hanging by a thread about to snap was now raw, passionate emotion. And Rick loved it. 

He massaged his own cock as he was fucked, timing himself perfectly so that when Stanley finally throbbed, bucking forward and releasing himself into Rick with a noise of pure bliss, Rick spilled his own seed all over the bed. With a sigh of satisfied exhaustion he fell forward and collapsed into a small fracture between sleep and alertness. He breathed rapidly and raggedly as he felt Stanley flop down beside him, wrapping his strong arms around the skinny man. They fell asleep in each other's embrace.


	5. Love Over Life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for domestic violence, suicidal tendencies and physical/ emotional abuse.

Rick had always believed that love hit you hard. Square in the face like a fist in a bar fight. One swift, short shock of intensity and you spend the next few weeks with bruises on your face, slowly fading until nothing was left but a bitter memory. Now he had first-hand experience to confirm his theory. He was driving his spaceship slowly along a dirt trail road in Utah, passing the diners and saloons - yes, he knew they weren't really called saloons anymore but he liked to feel like a cowboy sometimes, don't judge - with Stanley in the passenger side glaring out the window, Rick with a cigarette hanging loosely between his teeth. "Are-Are we every g-gonna talk about this or are you just gonna keep moUUURRRPPPping around, huh Lee?" he asked, turning to his partner with a sour look.

For the bar fight analogy was more relevant than it seemed; Rick had just paid one thousand dollars to bail Stanley out of a county jail for clouting a guy over the head in the nearby bar who unfortunately just happened to be the sheriff's brother. "Nothing ta talk about Rick," Stanley growled. "Just get us home huh? We've been run outta this dumb town, don't have long to pack up an' leave,"

"No, we haven't been run out of this town. Lee," Rick skidded to a stop in the deserted road, tires kicking up sand. "You've been run out of this town. You know _The_ _Flesh Curtains_ had a gig tomorrow night right? You're costing us money with all the shit you do, money we need to stay on the road together,"

"Oh, you're blamin' me?!" Stanley growled, getting right up in Rick's face, their noses pressed together, all love gone from his eyes and replaced by pure vitriol. Rick tried no to show his fear, such fear he had of the man he should have felt nothing but love for. "It's you that drove me to that damn bar in the first place! An' you cant say shit-all to me about my drinkin' Rick, you're practically an expert a' DUIs!" his voice grew lower now, no longer yelling but a calm growl that made Rick cower even further away. "Jus' like yer an expert at everythin' else,"

"A-Actually," this could have been mistaken for Rick's normal stutter, but it wasn't. His normal stutter was a sign of confidence, this stutter was a sign of pure uncertainty. A situation he couldn't control. "The genetic biosynthesis of molecules in the body suggest that expertise is-"

He never got a finish. A fist flying in his face, the cracking of his jaw and teeth flying, clattering against the car window. Blood pouring from Rick's mouth, Stanley leaning back in shock, his knuckled covered in blood. It was his turn to stutter, feeling horrible as he saw what he had just done. Tears filled his eyes and he scanned the glove box for a first aid kit. "R-Rick, I-"

"Get out,"

"Huh?"

"Get out the fucking car Stanley Pines!" Rick shoved him into the door, which Stanley opened and left compliantly. Rick closed the door behind him and threw the keys to their motel out into the sand. "See you back at the motel," he stated, taking off at breakneck speed. The tyres skidded against the dirt track.

That night, Stanley sat in the lounge of their small motel room and cried, burying his face into one of Rick's shirts. He couldn't be sure when the brunette was coming back, or even if he was coming back, but this was all the comfort he could take right now. Was this how Rick felt? This uncertainty. Although Stanley could control this, he had to. He couldn't subject Rick to anymore of this. In the month since they had fucked for the first time, this had been the third time Rick had to bail him out, the second - and worst - time he had raised his hands at him, the first time had left Rick with a black eye, this time lost teeth and for all he knew a broken jaw. Stanley knew he was a ticking time bomb and Rick was in the blast range. He made a decision.

The motel door creaked open, Rick carrying bags from the local convenience store, snack foods ready for their next trip outside town. Flicking the light on he saw Stanley sitting in the chair, crying, gripping his shirt. "Oh Lee..." Rick said, his eyes softening. "What the fuck have we become?"

"Not 'we' Rick. Like you said, everything's all my fault," Stanley growled, walking over to the bed and closing his suitcase. 

"Lee I didn't mean-!"

"No Rick. You were right. I'm just gonna keep hurting you, next time it could be real bad. I'm leavin' Ricardo, so get outta my way or do you want our final goodbye to involve you losin' more teeth?"

Rick just stood, dumbfounded, against the door, the object between Stanley and the door which, if walked through, would mean never seeing him again. Love made people do crazy things, Rick always believed that, and this was one of those times. Logic went out the window, and if Rick were to observe the scene playing out in front of him he would have hung his head in shame for acting so irrationally. Especially when he was completely sober. Rick grabbed one f the beer bottles on the side table, smashed it off the wall and pressed one of the shards against his neck. "You aren't fucking leaving,"

It was Stanley's turn to look dumbfounded at he bottle. "Rick...what the..."

"You pull me away from the door this shard will accidently sever my jugular. I-I-I'll bleed out all over you in fu-fuckin' minutes. You try to fight me, approach me, anything - it w-won't be an accident. I love you Lee, you aren't fucking leaving me,"

Stanley was shaking now, feeling his heart pound in his chest, mouth dry, tears coming through his eyes. "Okay, Rick, okay. I won't leave - I won't! I promise Rick just... just put that thing down huh...?"

"Okay," Rick agreed, setting it down o the floor slowly, carefully, casting weary glances at Stanley. Once it was down, Rick stood back up. "Where we heading to tomorrow?" he asked, as if nothing had even happened.

Stanley gulped, his body numb, the shock not even set in yet. "H-How 'bout Vancouver? I g-got this great new idea for cheap vacuum cleaners,"

Rick nodded, his face devoid of emotion, blank. "Vancouver it is. Come on, it's late. I'm not driving tired, Lee,"

"O-Of course not, Rick, hehe," Stanley laughed nervously.

"Come to bed with me?" Rick asked, before his face fell again. "Or are you goUUURRRPPPing to anther bar tonight?"

"Of course am comin' ta' bed with you," Stanley scolded, getting in with Rick and wrapping his arms around him. "I do love ya' Rick ,you know that. The only reason I was gonna leave was-"

"Well you aren't fucking leaving now, so there's no point in talking about it," Rick snarled, wriggling out of Stanley's embrace. "I love you too, though," 


	6. BirdPerson

Rick Sanchez was lying on the terrace of their current motel, sipping from a can of light beer (it was amazing what one missed after spending three months sleeping in Stanley's car) when he heard a small bleeping sound from above. A flash of green filled the sky, with a long, spiralling gradient into yellow then white then a slight tinge of blue. It stretched across the sky like a tightly pulled rope, making the scientist raised an eyebrow in intrigue. What exactly was this? That question was answered when a pair of large wings like an eagle's shot open and down swooped his oldest and dearest friend, BirdPerson. "Hey, wh-what's going on BirdPerson?" of course his name wasn't really BirdPerson, but he real name was in a language Rick found extremely difficult to learn, and had given up on several years before. He spoke ten intergalactic languages, even Kronenburg. But he couldn't understand the language of the bird people. 

"Rick, hello," While BirdPerson's voice was in its usual emotionless tone, Rick sensed a hint of concern and urgency behind it. 

"W-What's going on man?" Rick offered the alien a beer which he didn't accept; liquor confused him. Rick shrugged and padded into the motel room where Stanley was sitting on the couch reading a newspaper. 

"What the-?!" Stanley yelled, but then recognised the large alien from the first night he met Rick. "Hey...uh...Bird-Man," 

"Hello overweight human with the large nose," Birdperson replied, which made Stanley go red in the face and Rick's eyes water from trying to stifle his laughter. "Rick, would it be better to continue this discussion in private?" 

"No," Rick re[lied immediately. "Any-anything we have to discuss c-can be said in front of him," Rick explained with such a look of determination to include Stanley. Until then they had lived very separately when it came to Rick's 'extracurricular activities', but Rick didn't want that. He loved Stanley Pines and was going to include the larger man whether he liked it or not. 

"Vey well. Rick, the Intergalactic Government required my planet to sign up under their rule. Since we have declined, they have begun to invade us. We are at war with them Rick, and we need your help," the alien explained gravely. 

"Count me in," was the immediate response. 

"Woah, woah, woah," Stanley stood up from his arms chair and waved his large forearms around in front of the two. "Rick, you don't think we should talk about this first? I mean, what the hell? You're the one who practically forced me to stay with you, now you're talkin' about leavin' ta some Godforsaken planet to get killed in a war?!" 

BirdPerson raised an eyebrow as he heard Stanley state that Rick forced them to be together, but decided not to mention it. Actually, he decided not to mention anything during this weird and clearly volatile situation. He really didn't understand humans. "Lee, look," Rick tried, holding his hands up in what, to BirdPerson, seemed like a defensive gesture, like Rick was scared of his partner. But then, why would that be? "I-I love you, okay? But we-we're talkin' a whole planet, billions of - well not people but you know what I mean - bein' wiped out, taken control of. I can't fucking stand it Lee. I have to go help and destroy those Galactic Authoritarian fucks. He's my friend and I-I'm gonna h-help when I can," 

Stanley scoffed. "Since when have you been fuckin' loyal? Huh, since when have you gave a fuck about anyone other than yourself?" 

"I care about you!" Rick screamed hoarsely. That made everyone in the room freeze. Rick widen his eyes. He had never said that to anyone. Ever. Nobody meant anything to him. But Lee did. Was he suddenly capable of caring? Had this rugged redneck actually incited something like that in him? Destroyed the cold person he had once been and replaced it with this scared puppy, terrified of being left alone? "I...care about you, Lee," Rick repeated in a confused tone this time. The conviction was gone, replaced by something lost and desperate. Stanley seethed. 

"Ya know what? Fine! You fuckin' manipulative psycho, all you are is a drain on my damn resources. Go, fuck off to planet Bird-Man! See if I give a damn," Stanley threw his red jacket on and opened the door to leave, turning back to his boyfriend. ""You wanna go then go, but don't expect me to be here waiting when you come back," The door slammed behind him. 

Rick stared at the floor for a few seconds before turning to BirdPerson. "Come-come help me p-pack," 

Five hours later Rick and Birdpersojn sat under the sky littered with twinkling stars, Rick with a beer in his hand and BirdPerson with his arms hanging limply between his thighs, perched on the balcony. "Rick, I shall attempt to ask you a personal question." BirdPerson stated. 

Rick looked at him like he had just sprouted a third wing, but just shrugged. 

"Okay, s-s-shoot," BirdPerson lifted up one of Rick's spindly arms. 

"These erosive bruising marks, how did you get them?" 

Rick snatched his black and blue arm back, cuddling it close to his chest. "None-None of your damn business," 

"Rick, on my world, when one leaves bruises on their significant other this is considered a dick move," 

Rick snarled half-heartedly at his friend. "Shut up - you don't know anything about me or Lee. Y-You have no idea the shit we've been through," Rick exclaimed very quickly, without pauses in-between. BirdPerson raised his arms in surrender. Rick stared out into the desert for a few seconds, a tear trickling down his face. He quickly wiped it, concealing it so his friend wouldn't see. "Come on, let's go," Rick swung his knapsack onto his back, carrying it one-strapped like he'd seen the cool kids in high school do. Personally he couldn't understand the appeal. 

Rick and BirdPerson jumped into the large portal, feeling themselves split into pieces, reappearing in the jungle that was BirdPerson's planet. 

"Fuck..." Rick whispered to himself, hissing through his teeth. "What have I done to Lee?" he started to cry. 

"Hey Rick?!" he heard a voice from behind. "How's it Schwanching bro?!" 

_Oh shit. _Rick thought. _This guy. _____

____Rick turned around with a huge and very false smile. "Schwanchy!" he exclaimed, hugging his ex-bandmate tightly. The scruffy little cat let out a pleased yelp before Rick settled him back down on the floor. "I kn-knew you'd be here helping out our no-UUURRRPPP-ble cause,"_ _ _ _

____"I'm not the only one," Schwanchy raised an eyebrow. "I met this brilliant scientist, Rick, and he's agreed to build our weapons and schwanch,"_ _ _ _

____Rick rolled his eyes skeptically but tried to seem enthusiastic. "And who's that huh?"_ _ _ _

____"Forgotten me already Sanchez? Wouldn't be surprised with how much a junkie you are,"_ _ _ _

____Rick whirled around, his eyes widening like saucers. "FORD?!"_ _ _ _

____ _ _

____*_ _ _ _

____ _ _

____Stanely sat in a bar nursing a beer. That was it; a whole year of his life wasted away. Nothing would ever be the same again - not without Rick. Stanley had been strong that first time, the first time he really abused Rick. He had been strong enough and mature enough to walk out. But now Rick had walked out, and Stanley was left broken, desperate, screaming out in his head, replaying that entire year over and over to try to figure out what went wrong, what he could have done to make Rick stay. What he could have done to make Rick happy, not the cynical, broken person he had become. What would become of him now? And what would become of Rick?_ _ _ _

____Except he knew what would become of Rick. Rick had a talent. He was so smart, and he had friends who looked out for him. He had a purpose and a mean to fulfill it. What did Stanley have? Nothing. No education, no talents, no smarts, no friends or family. His only real family had left him. Rick had almost been like a replacement for Ford, but now he had left just like Ford did. Maybe too good a replacement then._ _ _ _

____Stanley finished off the drink and just as he was about to get up and leave someone brushed past him. Stanley smirked slightly. Time to do the only thing I've ever been good at, Stanley decided. Pick a fight._ _ _ _


	7. Highly Sophisticated

The phone rang and Rick, who was holed up in his little treehouse on Birdperson's planet, wondered who in the Multiverse could be calling him. The war had ended several years before, the Intergalactic Government having retreated from the planet. Rick and Ford's technology had driven them out. So Rick had settled there, in a small treehouse resembling that of a squirrel's, in one of the many thousand-foot-or-above trees, with trunks wider than a football pitch. It was like living in multi-storey flats. 

Ford had left straight after the war, and as far as Rick knew he was doing the exact same as he was; holing himself up somewhere secluded and cosy, never leaving, never speaking to anyone and working on his inventions practically 24/7. It was a life Rick had always pictured for himself, yet there was a certain emptiness to it. Rick pulled off his transparent blue goggles and picked up the human phone. He had no idea he could actually get reception on this planet. "Hello?" He asked, bored. 

_"Rick!" _He knew that voice anywhere.__

__"Lee?! What the he-UUURRRPPP-hell are you calling for?!" The estranged couple hadn't spoken in the better part of ten years._ _

___"Look Rick I-I need ya," ____ _

____"What? What do you m-mean?" Rick asked, sitting up from the soft, mud-brown carpet he had been sleeping on, feeling the bristles stick in his hair. "Did I tell you man that I-I had a daughter?"_ _ _ _

_____"Heard through the great vine. Congrats. Look some, some weird shit's happened Rick, fucked shit. I need ya' Sanchez. I'll send ya' my coordinates,"_ _ _ _ _

______"No need," Rick dismissed. "I'll track 'em," he hung up the phone, flopping back down on his back. Lee..._ _ _ _ _ _

______BirdPerson, who had been listening from the doorway, approached his old friend, looking down at him. The hybrid didn't quite understand such behaviour. Rick had been, from what he had observed, hurt by Stanley, yet he had agreed to help him. And now was having second thoughts. What a strange development. "Rick. Do you really think it is a good idea to assist your ex spirit mate when you are in such a fragile mindset?"_ _ _ _ _ _

______"You don't know anything," Rick spoke sadly, but with some acknowledgement that BirdPerson was probably right. He had just had a daughter. To be honest, a daughter he really didn't want. Hadn't planned for. "I n-need to help him. I still fucking l-love him," Rick admitted, and it pained him to do so._ _ _ _ _ _

______BirdPerson however, was very confused._ _ _ _ _ _

______"Rick, he physically harmed you. Here when one's spirit mate harms them in such a way, they are apprehended and punished severely, and the victim no longer loves them,"_ _ _ _ _ _

______"Y-You don't know anything," Rick held his tears back very well, but BirdPerson still suspected them. "I'm a h-human, and that was Earth. You don't get it. I'm going,"_ _ _ _ _ _

______As Rick walked towards the door to the treehouse, BirdPerson sadly advised. "Good luck, my friend,"_ _ _ _ _ _

______"Sh-UUURRRPPP- sure," Rick slammed the door behind him. He could have just gotten a portal, but he didn't want BirdPerson to see him let out a choked sob before hopping into the portal. Once he came out however, all emotion was shoved to the side in favour of curiosity. What a strange place!_ _ _ _ _ _

______Rick knew about hick towns in the South, after all he and Stanley has stayed in Utah for a few months. But he didn't know that in the middle of a not- really-Southern state like Oregon, and especially in the middle of the forest, there would be a hillbilly town like this one. The whole place was a tourist trap, but hat didn't really bother Rick. He knew whole planets that were tourist traps. Everything here was wholesome, rugged but with a family-friendly feel. Rick had to admit he admired their dedication._ _ _ _ _ _

______The House in front of him was odd, like something you'd see in a 1950s Disney Film. Snow White came to mind. "Le- uh... Stanley?" He asked uncertainly, pushing open the creaking door. He expected shambles, a mess, maybe an alien invasion blew the place to shit. But inside was a highly sophisticated sterile science lab. with fermenters taller than he._ _ _ _ _ _

______"No way this place is Stanley's," Rick grumbled. He heard footsteps clunking on old wooden stairs, and just as he was about to activate his cyborg, mechanical augmentations as a defend mechanism, the figure which emerged from the darkness was not some Gorgon Pnomogalaxion, but his ex boyfriend._ _ _ _ _ _

______"Lee?!"_ _ _ _ _ _

______He hadn't changed much, except now he had long hair in a mullet. Rick preferred his short hair by far. He had also grown a little overweight, not fat exactly, but his muscles were sagging with lack of exercise, a stomach swollen from drinking light beer. "Rick, fuck, you gotta help me!"_ _ _ _ _ _

______Stanley ran up, grasping Rick's hand and yanking the much thinner and physically weaker man downstairs. Rick had also lost a lot of muscle, but that was from lack of food rather than lack of exercise. He did plenty of that. "Calm the fuck down, what's-"_ _ _ _ _ _

______Rick was made awestruck by what he saw. The outer shell, towering above him with enough charisma to put a pyramid to shame, of a very basic portal device. Rick knew Ford had been working on inter-dimensional travel, but like always Rick was one - well in this case ten - steps ahead. He knew this was the time to be smug, but he couldn't help it. "Rick, Rick you gotta do something! Ford is...fuck, I pushed him and he fell in and I don't know where he went!"_ _ _ _ _ _

______"You brought me here to help Ford," Rick sneered, bitterness and haw disguising his hurt. He knew Stanley had wanted his help, but he didn't know it was because of that bastard that he needed him. "I'm s-sorry Lee, but I'm done being your fucking errand boy you call every time you need someone to get you out of debt or do your taxes. You're o-on your own!"_ _ _ _ _ _

______"Rick, you're my last hope man!" Stanley pleaded as Rick sauntered out. Yet just as he said that Rick noticed something, a tattered book in the other man's hands._ _ _ _ _ _

______"What's that?" Rick pointed to it._ _ _ _ _ _

______"I dunno," Stanley shrugged sheepishly. "It's Ford's,"_ _ _ _ _ _

______"Lemme see," Rick really just wanted to see it to snoop on what the other scientist was working on, but as he flicked through the pages his eyes ignited with flames of wonder. He handed it back to Stanley. "I may be your last hope, but you're on your second to last,"_ _ _ _ _ _

______"Huh?"_ _ _ _ _ _

______"That j-journal, Lee," Rick gestured. "That's how you'll save Ford. You need to learn to do shot on your own,"_ _ _ _ _ _

______And Rick portalled out, Stanley left clutching the journal, gazing at the spot there the green spiralling orb had swallowed his lover. Thank_ _ _ _ _ _


	8. Epilogue - Forty Years Later

Rick didn't know what it was. What it could have been. Maybe it was the sudden mistrust from his daughter; the daughter who'd spent all her life idolising him and who now saw him as a threat to her family. He knew he was, but wasn't about to admit that. Not to this presence looming over his though process. A voice that pushed him into returning to the little sleepy town in Oregon. He didn't know what it was but he he would allow himself to feel it, just a little.

His giddiness was overwhelming, and more than a little embarrassing. There he was, seventy years old and the smartest man in the universe, chasing his long lost love like some fantasist schoolgirl. After all, Stanley could have gotten married, had his own children. Grandchildren, even! That was a horrific thought. However, Rick Sanchez knew that he'd be accepted into the other man's life again. Don't ask him how he knew, he just did.

The creaky bus eventually came to a halt, jolting forward and wrenching Rick from his jagged thought process. He groaned, his back cracking with withered bone as he stood, grabbing his little compact pouch. He had built a shrink ray some time before, so everything he needed to survive, really for the rest of his life in that town, was in that small pouch bag. Just one of the many advantages of being Rick Sanchez.

As he stepped off the bus, he had to take a short while to familiarise himself with the surroundings. Rows of tall conifers concealing so many dark, quirky secrets. He trudged on until he noticed the building he recognised from years ago. At first glance his heart sank. The roof was caved in, wood rotting by the porch. He was about to turn back, thinking it was abandoned. But travelling across space and time had taught the man not to judge a book by its cover. He had to explore further.

And even if there wasn't anyone there any longer, at least he'd be able to scavenge cool stuff from Ford's old lab. About to knock on the door, it opened before he could, and there stood, unmistakably, his Lee.

Sure, the man had changed a bit. His once toned and attractive muscles had deflated into fat, sagging skin, his nose grown and hair seeping from his ears. He now seemed to need glasses. Yet in Rick's mind he was still so beautiful.

Not Like Rick had much to brag about himself. His hair thin, wiry and balding in contrast with the thick, long, brown locks he'd previously sported. His lean frame and become skinny and withered. Weak. But Stanley observed the keen, sharp glint in his eyes that promised action, mischief and adventure. Something he had missed oh so dearly. Rick wasn't some tired old man, he was just as spritely as ever.

Rick gulped anxiously.

"Uh, hi...Lee..." Rick smiled, finally able to use that name again.

Stanley's heart fluttered at the nickname. Stanley, who was honestly just as excited to see Rick as Rick was to see him, crossed his beefy arms over his chest and frowned.

"And where'd you spend the last forty years?" Stanley demanded. Rick chuckled.

"You wouldn't b-believe me if I-I told you,"

"You still stutter huh?" Stanley gruffly laughed. "Well me, I've been here takin' care of the business," Rick knew 'the business' was code for 'manipulating idiots into buying fake goods at incredulous prices'. He didn't know what to say, and just nodded.

"So uh..."

"Why are you here, Rick?"

Rick blinked a couple of times. Why was he here? Of all the places in the galaxy this seemed the one he'd least likely to be in. He'd suffered domestic violence at this hands of this man, gotten married, had children, left his children, fought in an intergalactic war and now he was at the doorstep of a man he hadn't seen in forty years.

"Well?"

He scratched he back of his head. He'd been but on the spot like this before, with those accusatory orbs of hazel staring him down. But he'd never felt so intimidated by one person. After all, everyone is expendable. Because this man, Stanley Pines was someone he could never replace. The only person he could never replace.

"I'm here cuz...cuz I l-love you,"

Silence.

_Silence._

_"_ You ol' fucking asshole,"

Rick looked up. Stanley was standing with a smile on his face and his arms outstretched, grinning and ready for a hug.

"Lee..."

"Get in 'ere,"

Rick immediately crashed into his chest, burying himself in the familiar body. "You got-got f-f-f-fat," he stuttered. "It's cuddly, I like it,"

"An' you went bald," Stanley ruffled his electric hair. "I can use your head as my bathroom mirror to brush my teeth in the morning,"

"Lee?"

"Yeah?"

"We're r-really sick people, aren't we?"

"Yeah,"

"Lee?"

"Yeah,"

"I love you,"

"I love ya' too,"


End file.
